The Farming Saint in the Starry Wasteland (Elizabeth Schofield) novel Chapter 603

11:46 Thu, Jul 30

Chapter 603 Cafeteria Duty

Chapter 603 Cafeteria Duty

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A few worker drones crawled out of the shadows, dragged the two mangled halves of the corpse across the ground, and silently disappeared into the depths of the cavern.

The great insect climbed back onto its throne, its compound eyes slowly closing as if it had fallen into deep thought.

The dark cavern was left with nothing but the occasional sounds of larvae chewing and feeding somewhere in the depths.

The noises were faint, yet they echoed with startling clarity through the darkness, like a silent

answer.

Meanwhile, the Swarmborn on Planet A001 had no idea that their former leader had flown into a rage because of them.

At that moment, they were lining up outside their designated cafeteria.

The line stretched far down the hallway, perfectly orderly, with no shoving, no crowding, and no screeching.

The Swarmborn wore matching gray work uniforms and stood in a single file, quietly waiting their turn.

Aebi stood at the front of the line. As the squad leader of the farm’s Swarmborn team, a shiny employee badge was clipped to the collar of its uniform, with the name Aebi Tycoon printed on it.

It glanced back at the line behind it to make sure everyone was standing properly, then turned around and walked into the cafeteria.

The cafeteria wasn’t large, but it was clean and brightly lit.

Behind the serving counter stood several retired soldiers wearing white aprons. They were powerfully built, with arms thicker than an ordinary person’s thighs. One look was enough to tell they were the kind of men who could flip an entire Swarmborn onto its back with their bare hands if they ever had to.

But at that moment, they were holding oversized metal ladles and stainless steel serving trays instead of weapons.

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Chapter 603 Cafeteria Duty

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Quentin Whitmore stood behind Serving Window One, gripping a giant metal ladle big enough to scoop up an entire cabbage. He watched as the first Swarmborn stepped up to the

counter.

It was a small crawler with a relatively small frame and a light brown shell.

It stood properly in front of the counter with its forelegs lightly folded together. Its compound eyes remained fixed on the baskets overflowing with fresh vines and leafy vegetables behind the counter, and saliva had already begun pooling around its mouth.

Even so, it remained quietly waiting. It didn’t reach out to grab anything, nor did it make a single impatient sound.

“One standard meal,” the worker drone said. Its voice rumbled softly from deep within its abdomen, carrying a deliberately polite and restrained tone.

Quentin answered with a nod, turned around, and took down a large basket from the shelf behind him.

It was more than twice the size of a grocery shopping basket.

Then he started filling it.

First came a huge bundle of fresh strawberry vines. The leaves were lush and vibrant, and several tiny strawberries that hadn’t been picked still clung to the vines. They were bright red, delicate, and gleamed under the light.

Next came a bundle of sweet cane stalks, chopped into sections that exposed their tender white centers and gave off a pleasant sugary aroma.

Then came crisp napa cabbage that had been thoroughly washed until spotless. Every leaf snapped cleanly when broken apart, bursting with sweet juice.

The basket was filled to the brim until it overflowed into a towering heap, heavy and packed full.

The worker drone’s forelegs trembled slightly as it accepted the basket.

Not because it was heavy, but because it smelled so unbelievably good.

The rich blend of strawberry vine fragrance, sweet cane, and fresh cabbage washed over it, nearly drowning every trace of its self-control.

It took a deep breath and forced itself to remain composed. Carrying the basket carefully, it walked to the seat assigned to its number, gently set the basket down, sat with perfect posture,

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11:46 Thu, Jul 30

Chapter 603 Cafeteria Duty

and only then began to eat.

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It started with the strawberry vines, chewing them one small bite at a time as though savoring the finest delicacy in the world. Its compound eyes half-closed, and its shell rose and fell slightly as it basked in pure satisfaction.

Then it moved on to the sweet cane, crunching through each piece with crisp bites. Sweet juice dribbled from the corner of its mouth, and it quickly wiped it away with its foreleg, afraid of staining its brand-new work uniform.

Finally, it picked up an entire head of napa cabbage and bit into it. The leaves shattered crisply between its jaws, producing bright, crunchy sounds.

Those sounds echoed throughout every corner of the cafeteria, rising and falling one after another like a silent feast.

Quentin was one of the cafeteria cooks responsible for serving meals to the Swarmborn.

He had once been a career soldier.

Before retiring from the military, he had spent years fighting the Swarmborn along the border.

Those encounters had always ended one of two ways, either they died or he did.

Now, as he watched one Swarmborn carry its basket away and another step up to the counter, he kept hold of his oversized ladle, yet an indescribable feeling suddenly settled over him.

Before coming here, he had assumed he would be assigned to supervise those savage, bloodthirsty creatures with mouths full of fangs.

He had already prepared himself mentally.

He expected to spend every day confronting them, intimidating them, and keeping them under control.

He had even practiced several different restraint techniques in advance and carefully studied the weak points in a Swarmborn’s shell so he could take one down with a single strike if

necessary.

Instead, after he arrived, he learned that his new assignment was working in the Swarmborn cafeteria, serving meals to the bugs.

At the time, he had been completely dumbfounded.

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11:46 Thu, Jul 30

Chapter 603 Cafeteria Duty

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“Captain Cartwright,” Quentin said as he turned toward Benedict Cartwright at the neighboring serving window. His voice carried a complicated emotion that even he couldn’t quite put into words. “Before I came here, I thought I’d end up as some kind of correctional officer, keeping those savage, bloodthirsty bugs in line. Turns out I wound up in the kitchen serving chow instead.”

measured with absolute precision.

He handed the basket to the soldier drone. The Swarmborn accepted it, lowered its head slightly, and thanked him in a hoarse voice that clearly carried respect before turning and walking toward its assigned seat.

“We can’t let our guard down,” Benedict said. His voice was quiet, but steady.

Quentin nodded.

“I know. It’s just…” He paused as he looked at the Swarmborn quietly eating throughout the cafeteria. “It just doesn’t feel real.”

He lowered his voice. “Captain Cartwright, I’ve lost count of how many times we fought the Swarmborn along the border. Back then, we’d watch them pour through breaches in the defensive lines, their black shells packed together like a tidal wave, their compound eyes glowing red, their screeches making our ears ring. All we ever thought about was how to drive them back, how to kill one more, and how to stay alive. But now we’re standing here wearing aprons, holding serving ladles, dishing out food for them. They stand in line, they thank us, they sit down in neat rows to eat, just like our own soldiers.”

Benedict fell silent for a moment.

He had been thinking the exact same thing.

He had enlisted earlier than Quentin, fought in more battles, and killed far more Swarmborn.

During one defensive battle, he had held a position by himself for four straight hours. The barrel of his energy gun had glowed red from constant firing, and the ground around him had been piled high with Swarmborn corpses and shattered pieces of shell.

Those Swarmborn had charged fearlessly toward him, trampling over the bodies of their fallen comrades. Their deafening screeches had shaken the battlefield, and their compound eyes had held nothing but bloodthirsty madness.

At the time, Benedict had believed the Swarmborn were nothing more than monsters. creatures without reason or emotion, driven only by the instinct to consume everything in

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